


Sherlock Holmes: A New Character

by imeankinda



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-04 18:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imeankinda/pseuds/imeankinda
Summary: This work is about a teenage girl who happens upon Baker Street by a stroke of luck. She then goes on to solving crimes with John and Sherlock, but there's one problem: she's a mute. With the combination of both men, Sherlock, to read what she's thinking, and John, to read what she's feeling, the three get along quite nicely. But the question is, will she ever talk? Find out by reading this action and emotion packed story.





	1. Chapter 1

Flipping through the daily papers wasn't something that Lily normally did. Her mum, who had learned about Lily's departure just a day before it happened, had her daughter's phone deactivated in one last attempt to make it harder for her to escape home. Regardless, Lily had picked up a prepaid phone on her way to the airport last night. It was time to start her new life.

The paper was less than interesting, but it was the only way to kill time while she sat at a small, round table in a suspiciously empty café. She sipped on her tea from a porcelain cup, realizing that it had already went cold.

It was her first day in London. In fact, her first two hours, and she slowly realized that she was in over her head. She had money, but she knew that it would run out quickly if she didn't get her priorities straight. She didn't have a place to stay, but she figured that she would walk around to find where nearest motels where located.

"50£ a day. That's all I can manage for this week," she thought to herself. She knew that she would have to save for lodging, so unnecessary purchases were not an option.

Flip. Flip. Flip. Nothing exciting in the papers. She saw an ad for a used car, and the story on a celebrity love scandal. She sighed. Flip. Flip. Flip. Back to the personal ads. A used car, a missing ginger cat, a book club. She scanned the page lazily, until something caught her eye.

"Lodging in Central London. First months rent free. Address: 221B Baker Street. Text this number if interested. Will give more details in person.  
-SH"  
"P.S. Please be at least moderately clever."

"Kind of a strange request," she thought. But at least she would have a month to get her new life together. She took out her prepaid phone and dialed the numbers from the ad.

"Hello. My name is Lily. I'm texting about the ad in the papers. When can we meet?"

A few seconds went by, and she felt the phone buzz in her hand.

"Who is this? Why do you have my number? What ad?"

She eyed the screen, and started typing a reply, when another number texted her. Strange. She'd just gotten this phone, and she hadn't given the number to anyone. She flipped over to the random text.

"I apologize for any confusion. You see, I'm a bit of a celebrity around here, so giving out my number all 'willy nilly' is somewhat of a danger. Therefore I placed my colleague, John Watson's number in the paper. I must have forgotten to mention it to him. Where are you currently? We can arrange a meeting now if you're in the area. Also, 'hello' is not a good opener. -SH"

"I think I'm close. A café called Busy Brews? Quite an ironic name, if you ask me. I'll get a cab straight away."

"Good. One more thing. I play the violin quite often and I sometimes don't talk for days on end. Will that be bothersome? -SH"

"I don't talk at all. Will that be bothersome?"

A slight pause.

"I think we'll get along just fine. -SH"


	2. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily meets John and Sherlock, and a new order is set

She ripped the ad out of the paper, and dashed outside to flag the nearest cab. One came round the corner, driven by an older, balding man, who was more than ready for retirement. Still, when she entered the back seat, he looked at her through the rearview mirror with a welcoming smile.

“Where will it be, miss?” he asked. Lily handed him the piece of paper.

“Alright, miss. Not really the talking type, are you? She gave him a look that said, “If only you knew.”

The streets of Central London were completely foreign to her. Being from a rural area, she had never seen so many buildings at once. Hardly any birds, hardly any trees, and the people walking on the dampened street seemed bothered and incredibly unattached to their surroundings. The cab arrived at a seemingly ordinary loft. The door was a simple black, with the address 221B shining placidly in bronze lettering, with a door knocker to match. Lily stepped out, payed the driver with a gracious tip, and stood face to face with the door.

She knocked twice. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs, the door unlocking, and saw a figure in the doorway. It was a man of average height, black, curly hair, bright blue eyes, and he wore a silk robe.

He stared into her eyes for a little longer than what was comfortable, and then looked her up and down. “John! She’s alright!” he yelled at his friend from upstairs. “A little emotionally unstable at the moment, but alright! Probably something to do with her mother!” He looked at her again.

“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes,” he said in a calmed voice. He shook her hand. “Come in.”

She followed him up the wooden stairs, taking in as much as she could during the journey. She clutched the mace in her pocket as a precaution. You can never be too careful these days. They reached the living room, and a small, friendly man awaited them.

“You must be Lily,” he said. He stuck out his hand for her to shake. He had greyed hair, which was naturally blonde, and a smile that could light up any room. She took his hand. “Sorry for the text. Sherlock usually tells me things, but he usually leaves the most important ones out. You seem awfully young to be renting a flat.” She was visibly uncomfortable, unsure of what was happening. John saw this, and looked at Sherlock.

“For God’s sake, Sherlock! She’s terrified! Go and put some real clothes on.”

Sherlock paused. “Fine. However, I seriously doubt that she’s eligible for renting. Sixteen, seventeen at the most.” He disappeared into a bedroom.

“I’m sorry about him,” John apologized. “He doesn’t deal with new people very well. Suppose you’ll have to get used to that if you’re gonna be living here. We’re.. Detectives, by the way. Our landlady’s gone on vacation indefinitely, so we have the spare room. So what’s made you interested in here?”

“She’s mute!” Sherlock called from the other room. “A selective mute, mind you.” He walked out of the room and made his way back to Lily and John, still buttoning his shirt and straightening his collar. “Suppose I forgot to tell you that as well.”

John was a bit embarrassed. His cheeks flushed a rosy color, and he apologized to her.

“Now, down to business,” Sherlock said. “You’re new here. Very new, judging by the luggage in the taxi outside. You ran away from home, didn’t you? You’re not from around here, that’s for sure. Do we need to phone the police? Hm? I won’t have a fugitive living upstairs.”

She relaxed her grip on the mace, and pulled her hand out of her pocket, taking with it a neatly folded packet of paper. She unfolded it, and presented it to the two men.

“Emancipation.” Sherlock studied the document on top. “It’s a copy.” The places where addresses, countries, states, or provinces could be were blackened out with a marker. He took the papers from her, looked down at them, and back to her face. “Aged sixteen. Your mother tried to take your inheritance, however small it may have been. You are very far away from home, Miss Franks. Had to escape it all, didn’t you? A selfish, manipulative mother. An abusive father. Except he’s been out of the picture for quite some time.” He started after the other papers, gathering more information. “You had your own job, a high grade-point average, like that means anything. You’re mature for your age, and…” He trailed off. Something must have caught his eye. He snapped the papers away and handed them back to Lily.

“Never mind that.” He smiled. “Because of your age, we’ll have to set some ground rules. You must attend school if you’re going to move in here. I’m sure that you’d rather take online courses. I’ll be somewhat lenient on the rent, but it’s to be paid no longer than two weeks after it’s due. Can you agree to this?”

He read her face.

“Good. John will help with the bags."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to leave comments so that I can improve my work :)


	3. The Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily moves in, Sherlock takes her along on a case, and Lily comforts John.

Lily’s POV

John and I reached the top floor, and he started to show me around. He was wheeling my suitcase around, and I was carrying my drawstring backpack. I didn’t really need the help, but it was nice of him to do so.

“And here’s your room,” he said. 

We placed my bags down. The room was tidy, inviting, and smelled of lavender and a vintage perfume, old lady smell. It still had some of the landlady’s possessions in it, but I figured that I would leave them alone. She’d probably lived there for decades, so it felt disrespectful to pack it all up and store it away.

“I’m right next to you, and the bathroom is straight down the hall. Anything you need, just come to my door. If I’m not in, Sherlock is downstairs most of the day. Not many cases right now, so he’s a bit manic. Best to steer clear when he’s like this.”

I shook my head to let him know that I understood. He seems nice, but there’s a hint of sadness in his character.

“Anyways, I was just on my way out when, y’know, you came around. Not your fault, of course. Just gave me a bit of a scare. I’ll be back in a few hours. Get yourself settled in. Nice to meet you.” He walked down the stairs, his footsteps sounding more and more muffled, until he was out of the door. I turned my attention to my bags.

I kneeled on the floor and unzipped my suitcase to reveal the handful of clothes that I could pack without paying extra to board it on the plane. On top, a picture of my sister. She’s my best friend. I tell her everything. It was her first year of uni, and it had been a full month since I had seen her. Now, I realized, my chances of seeing her were even slimmer.

I spotted a small, mahogany dresser to the right of me. I’ll put my clothes in there. I opened the top drawer, and there were a few bundles of white socks in it, along with a note.

“Hello! You must be the new tenant. Hope these boys haven’t replaced me with a man. This place needs a feminine touch every now and again. Be sure to make tea for the boys every morning! I do so worry about them.

The best of luck, Mrs Hudson”

What a sweet lady. No wonder I got the room the minute I stepped in. I’m a girl. I put my socks and underwear in the top drawer, my shirts in the second drawer, my bottoms in the third, and my pajamas in the last. I placed the photo of my sister on top of a frame holding what looked like Mrs Hudson’s children. May have been her nieces and nephews. Now to my drawstring.

It contained all of my toiletries: perfume, toothbrush, deodorant, etc. I walked over to the bathroom and placed them on the sink. In the mirror, there was a picture of a woman. Short, blonde hair, a beautiful smile, in a mid thigh dress. I took the picture off and examined the back.

“Love, always, your fiance.”

John must be engaged. Then why is he living here? Oh, no, divorced?

I started to walk back to my room, when John’s door caught my eye. He’s not here, I thought, so I could have a quick look.

Inside the room was extremely barren. There was a neatly made bed, and across from it was a desk with a laptop dead center. A writer? I walked over to the desk, and opened the laptop. It was on sleep mode. Open on the computer was his blog, where it said that he was an army doctor until he was injured and moved back to London. That explained the compulsively cleaned room. I closed the screen and made my way back to my room, when I heard the door opening and frantic feet up the stairs.

“John! John!” Sherlock yelled. He reached the top and looked at me wildly.

“Where’s John?” He asked. “Oh right, you can’t answer that. Is John here?”

I shook my head no.

“I need him!” His eyes darted across the flat, as if he didn’t believe me that John was out. “Always, as soon as I need him. There’s been another one.” Another what? “You, Lily, is science your strong suit?”

I hesitated, and shook my head yes.

“You’ll have to do. Come with me!”

He ran back down the stairs, and I followed suit. Whatever he was talking about, it seemed incredibly serious. We reached outside and he hailed a cab.

“Come on,” he said. “We need to get to the mortuary. Oh, yes. There’s been another body. The first was ruled as an accident.”

We reached the mortuary, and he ran inside. I had to pay the cabby.

He runs fast. It took me a few minutes to find him, but when I did, he was talking to a woman in a lab coat, her hair in a long pony. There was a body on the table next to them. I’d never seen a dead body before.

“Oh, who’s this?” the woman asked. She spotted me in the doorway.

“That’s Lily. Lily, this is Molly Hooper.”

“Oh, hi,” Molly said. I could tell that she was a shy person. I waved to her in response.

“So, what are you doing with Sherlock? What happened to John?”

“Mute.”

“What?”

“She’s a mute. Must I explain this to everyone? We’ll have to put a sign on you or something.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry. But why is she with you?”

“She’s the new tenant. John was out, so I had to use her.” He started examining the body. “Same as last time?”

“Yes. New tenant? She’s living with you? How old is sh-”

“Good. This can’t have been an accident.”

“Oh,” Molly said. She could read the confusion in my face. “The two victims were both campers. The first was found dead and covered with bug bites. The second one, that woman over there, was the same thing. We figured there was just a mosquito problem in the area.” Sherlock grabbed a small magnifying glass from the counter. He studied the bites.

He looked up at me. “Have a look.” He held out the magnifying glass for me to grab. I did.

I looked at the body, and I was a bit uneasy. There were bites all over her. I looked at them through the glass and noticed something strange. The bites. Their entry points varied greatly in size. Some massive, others very small. I spotted a computer in the room and looked something up.

“Mosquito species in my area.” I could see Sherlock observing me. Of course. The London Underground mosquito. I looked over to Sherlock and pointed at the screen. He calmly walked over.

“The London Underground mosquito. Only egg bearing females will inflict upon humans. You noticed the size variation. Good.”

“So what does that mean?” Molly chimed in.

“It means that someone is starving them and sicking them on people. But that’s not what’s killing them. Something else is. We’ll need to check his blood.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Ms Franks has had a long day. I better get her home now. Goodbye.” He walked out of the room.

“He’s a great man, you know,” Molly said. “You just have to get to know him. Hang in there.”

I smiled at her, and followed after Sherlock. He told me that we were going to dinner.

We were seated at a round, two person table, much like the one at the café. He grabbed the menu and looked at the options.

“Biology major. That’s the degree you want.” I looked at him.

“Might I suggest chemistry? That’s your second choice. That's what I majored in. Interesting field, chemistry. It challenged even me for brief moments.” The waiter walked to our table.

“What will you have to drink?”

“Two waters, please.”

“Of course.” He walked back to the kitchen.

“What sounds good to you?”

I pointed to the alfredo pasta. He read my choice.

“I’ll have to warn you, they have repulsive pasta here. The sauce is bland. I get a good discount here, though. Got the owner off of a burglary charge. What about the risotto?” I shook my head yes.

“Two risottos, then."

He told the waiter what we wanted, and went back to conversing with me.

“So, your father,” he started. He put his hands together in a praying position and held them up to his face. “An awful man, he was. I sincerely apologize. No one should have to go through that. Well, some people, but not you.” I was taken off guard. How did he know any of that? It was nowhere on the emancipation papers. He was never even mentioned. “Of course, he did have schizophrenia.” Okay, this is insane. Am I on the internet somewhere? “You’re afraid that you might get it some day. Become like him. It’s possible, but you have strong morals. Even with schizophrenia, there is no excuse to be an abusive maniac.” 

What. The. Hell.

“And your mother. She stayed with him, even though she knew what was going on. That is, until it started affecting her. Quite a selfish woman. She felt that she was owed something. She wasn’t, I hope you know. You were the one that was owed. You were forced to grow up fast, despite a nuclear family unit. It seems as though we’ve both had our troubles.” I looked at him in disbelief.

“Your grandfather. You were very close to him, but he passed away recently. He left you a small inheritance, and your mother wanted it. That’s why you were emancipated. To protect yourself. But why did you move here? Why so far away from home? To get away from it all? No, you’ve been dealing with your troubles all your life. Something happened. Something after the emancipation. I can’t tell what. Another family death?”

The waiter came back with our food. It smelled amazing. I looked at Sherlock, as if asking for approval to eat it. He shook his head ever so slightly. I gingerly picked up a spoonful and placed it in my mouth. He continued talking.

“It can’t have been. You would be more distraught than this. Ah. Your sister. Off to college, was she? You two were very close. After all, you’d been through hell and back. Don’t worry, you can have visitors at the flat, especially your sister.” I smiled at him. He’s very caring, he just... doesn’t understand people all that well. I appreciate it. He doesn’t have that politically correct filter that everyone seems to have these days.

We ate our food, and I took out my cash to pay for my portion.

“No need,” he said. He grabbed my hand as I was putting the money on the table. “You paid for the cab, remember? This is on me.”

We walked back to the flat. London was beautiful.

John was waiting for us when we got back.

“Where have you been? Where did you take her?” John said. He sounded a bit concerned.

“The mortuary. There’s been another mosquito attack.”

“What? Are you alright?” He asked me. I shook my head yes. “Why did you take her, might I ask?”

“A test. And you were out, of course. Very keen eye, this one. Noticed exactly what I did. We won’t be needing that takeout.” He spotted the styrofoam boxes on the counter. “We went to dinner.”

John seemed a bit annoyed. “She should be in bed. It’s past midnight.” I knew he wasn’t worried about me. He just needed something to yell at Sherlock for. He was worried. Sherlock didn’t answer his texts all night.

“I’m sure that Lily is perfectly capable of choosing her bedtime, John,” Sherlock said. “And I’m perfectly fine. You can go to bed now. Ta.” He went into his bedroom. John looked at me.

“I’m sorry if he gave you any trouble. He can be like that sometimes. Anyways, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He went upstairs, and I was left alone in Sherlock’s floor. Better not poke around. I made my way up the stairs, and sat on the twin bed in my room.

Hours later, I heard a scream. It was John.

“No!” he screamed. I rushed to his bedroom door. It was open.

I peered in his room, and there he was, flailing in his bed, having a nightmare. He shot up, hyperventilating, fully awake now, and noticed me in the doorway. He stared at me, shaking, breath rapid, embarrassed for waking me up. Once he calmed down a bit, he moved his lips as to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean… mean to…” He was still breathing heavily. I made my way over to his bed, and sat on it to where my feet were dangling off. I grabbed his hand with my right hand, and rested my left on top. I looked into his eyes. His breathing slowed marginally.

He stared at his lap, and I looked away from him, as to give him some privacy. I was still holding his hand. A few minutes went by, and he was completely calm.

“Thank you,” he said. He looked back up at me. I met his gaze. I smiled at him. He was successfully comforted. I leaned in for a hug, and he hugged me back. I was there for him. I wanted him to know that. We broke from each other’s grasp, and he spoke once more.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, I mean I’ve never told anyone this, what my nightmare is about.” He paused. He was contemplating whether to tell me or not. “I’m a soldier. An army doctor. I’ve seen… things.” He went on. “Anyways, there was this particular person, a young man, injured in the field. He…” He stopped. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you. I just can’t.”

I understood. I smiled at him again, and squeezed his hand. I let go, and patted his leg twice. I made my way to my room, and fell fast asleep.


	4. A New Victim

Lily’s POV

 

The next morning, I was sitting in the middle of my bed, reading a book that Mrs Hudson left behind. The Great Gatsby. It must have been one of her favorites, judging by the severe wear on the pages. Nevertheless, it was interesting enough to occupy me.

I heard a knock on my door, and someone opening it. It was John.

“Oh, hi.” I looked up at him. “I figured you’d still be asleep this early in the morning. It’s 7:00.” He peeked his head out, the rest of his body shielded behind the door. “I’m sorry for waking you last night. I don’t know what happened.” He opened the door fully, revealing himself. “I haven’t had a nightmare like that in ages.” I smiled at him to let him know that it was okay. I don’t sleep much anyways. I was fully awake when I had heard him screaming. He smiled back. “Anyways, I’m headed to the shops. Care to join me?” I nodded my head yes. “Alright, I’ll let you gather yourself.” 

He closed my door, and walked back to his room. I grabbed an outfit and made my way to the bathroom to take a shower.

Once I was out, I tossed my dirty clothes into the hamper and walked over to John’s room. The door was open. He was sitting at his desk, typing. I knocked on the door frame. He stopped typing, and looked over to me.

“Ready?” I shook my head yes. He pushed out his chair and stood up, and we walked outside.

We entered the shop, and the smell of freshly baked bread filled my lungs. An aisle packed with fresh fruits caught my eye. Everything on it was at least half the price compared to my hometown.

“Come.” John took the lead. He led us to a self serve coffee machine, and grabbed a medium cup.

“Do you drink coffee?” he asked. I grabbed a cup in response, and made my way down the assembly line. French roast, half and half, no sugar.

“I don’t take sugar either.” He smiled. We grabbed a trolley, and I pushed.

We started down the aisles.

“If you want anything, just put it in the trolley.” I bobbed my head again.

He started grabbing things off of the shelves. Crisps, frozen meals, biscuits, etc. I couldn’t help but think of how unhealthy those things were. We would have sped right past the fruit and veggie aisle if I hadn’t stopped him. I picked up a pineapple, checked for its ripeness, and held it up to John for him to okay the purchase. I put apples and kiwis in the cart as well. Then I got out my prepaid phone.

“What kind of fruits do you like?” I held it up to John. He read the message.

“Hmm. I used to like pomegranate.”

“And veggies?” He read it again.

“Not really one for veggies. Broccoli and corn is all I can stomach.”

I listened to his responses, and went around to pick up each item he mentioned. He laughed, unaware that his choices would become reality. We purchased the food, and headed back to the flat.

While we were putting the food away, Sherlock emerged from his room, in the same silk robe and plaid bottoms that I saw him in when we first met. “Morning,” he said. He came over to the counter that the bags were on, and looked through them. 

“What’s this?” He pulled out the bundle of broccoli.

“It’s a vegetable,” John said. “Believe it or not.”

“Ugh.” He dropped the broccoli back into the bag. “Where’s that takeout you ordered last night?”

“Had to throw it out. It was on the counter all day, thanks to you.”

“What am I to eat?” Sherlock sounded very concerned.

“The takeout from the day before that you didn’t eat.” Sherlock looked at John. He slowly walked over to the fridge, got the takeout, grabbed a fork, and left for his bedroom again. 

Just after that, I heard police sirens that stopped outside of the flat. Sherlock poked his head out of his room and looked towards the window.

“Lestrade!” he exclaimed. He ran out of his room and down the stairs. “There’s been another one, John! Another murder! Hazah!” There was a knock on the door, and a figure walked in.

Sherlock and the police man walked up the stairs. The man had grey, short hair and he was wearing casual clothing. He seemed a bit stressed out.

“John,” the man said. “Wait, who is that?” He was looking at me.

“Lily. New tenant. Mute,” Sherlock said almost immediately. “Don’t ask anymore questions.” Sherlock seemed incredibly focused.

“Alright then. I’m Detective Lestrade. Just call me Greg.” He flashed a smile at me, and looked to Sherlock. “The force decided to take the bite victims as a real case after getting your text about it yesterday. That, and there’s been another attack.”

“Yes, yes I know that,” Sherlock said in a hurried voice. “Get to the good stuff. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t found anything new.”

“The third victim wasn’t camping. She was weeding her garden and they flocked her. Her son witnessed the whole thing.”

“Brilliant,” Sherlock said. “Take me to him.”


	5. Plot Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three make it to the station, and discover something about the victim's son

John’s POV

 

Lestrade was the first to head down the stairs, followed by Sherlock, Lily, then me. We reached outside, where Lestrade entered his car and drove off in the direction of the police station. Sherlock hailed the nearest cab, opened the car door, and motioned for Lily to enter. She did, and I followed, when Sherlock put his hand in front of the door to stop me.

“We’ll get this one,” Sherlock said. “You get the next.”

“Why can’t I get in?” I asked.

“You talk. She doesn’t. Just get the next one.” He slid into the car and closed the door behind him. The cab drove off.

I sighed. He always does that. Just when I’m not expecting it. At least he’s been nice to Lily. Another cab approached, I waved it down, and told the cabby to head to the station.

When I arrived, Lily and Sherlock were already in the questioning room. Sherlock was sitting across from the boy, and Lily was standing beside Sherlock. He had his hands in a praying position, like he always does when he’s deducing or deep in thought. I slid into the room, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible, and took my place on the other side of him. Lily was holding a pocket notebook, pen in her other hand, listening to their conversation attentively and taking down notes.

“Sorry, please start from the beginning,” Sherlock said. He looked up at me. “As my colleague has just arrived.”

“Oh, okay,” the boy said. He was in shock.

“My name is Doctor Watson,” I said. “What’s yours?”

“Jonathan,” he said. He was staring down at the wooden table.

“Can you tell us what happened, Jonathan?” I replied.

“It was just after breakfast and my mum went outside to tend the garden. I was still inside, cleaning up.” He had a Welsh accent. “I heard her screaming and I looked out the window, and I saw her swatting bugs away. I thought they were bees or something. I ran out there to help her, but when I got to her she was lying on the ground. I shook her and she wasn’t responding, so I phoned the police.” He sounded more and more emotional. “And, and then, they told me she was dead.” He became hysterical.

“And where did the bugs go?” Sherlock asked.

“I don’t know,” the boy said. “I wasn’t paying attention to that.”

“Alright. Thank you for your time,” Sherlock said. He quickly got up and left the room.

“Thank you,” I said. I looked at Lily, and we left the room together.

 

Sherlock’s POV

 

That boy was hiding something. I just knew it. Lily and John caught up with me as I was pacing the sidewalk outside of the station.

“Lily,” I said. I stopped in my tracks in front of her. “Your notes, let me see them.” I held out my hand. She handed them over.

“Why was she taking notes, might I ask?” John said.

“I asked her to,” I replied. I can’t always read her. What she’s thinking, what she’s observing, what she’s deducing. I looked over the notes. She was nervous, playing with her chestnut brown braid on the right side of her face, wondering if she’d put down the right information. Good. She noticed it, too.

I handed the notebook back to her. “Good,” I said. “John, notice anything?”

“Well, he was pretty shaken up. Naturally,” he said.

“No. Not his demeanor. What did you notice about him?”

“I, um. I don’t know.”

“His arms. There wasn’t a single bite on them.” I grabbed the notebook back from Lily and handed it to John. He read.

“Jonathan, Aged 18, son of victim

Noticed victim screaming, ran outside to help

In poor condition, hysterical

No noticeable bite marks

Obviously hiding something, he can’t have gotten out of there with no bites

Suspect?”

“Oh,” John said.

“So he’s either the one who set them off on her, or he knows who did. He waited for them to clear out, then phoned the police.” I ran back inside the station.

“Lestrade!” I yelled. He ran over to me confused. “Put that boy in cuffs. He’s now a suspect.”


	6. Sherlock's Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They solve the case, and Sherlock makes a mistake

Sherlock’s POV

 

“I don’t know anything!” Jonathan yelled.

“Yes, you do. It’s impossible for you not to have any bites,” I said, in a calmed voice. Lily and John were standing beside me.

“I swear. I don’t know!”

“Would you like to know what I do?” I said. I looked him up and down, looking for deductions. ”You ran track in secondary school. You have a girlfriend, but you chose her for her looks, not her personality. She’s cheating, by the way. Your parents are recently divorced, with shared custody. Not anymore I suppose. You’re a child delinquent, but you’ve never been caught by the law. Also, you despise your mother. She’s always grounding you, aware of what you’re up to, and you hated that. Not a reason to murder her, however.”

“I didn’t… I never wanted this to happen!”

“You didn’t want what to happen, Jonathan.”

“Her to die!” He became hysterical.

“Then tell me who did. Tell me what happened.”

He took a deep breath in. “I have an uncle. An insect breeder. My mom was going out of town, and I was going to throw a party, but she cancelled her plans. My uncle said that he could do something about it. He could give her a tiny injury, something that would make her stay overnight in the hospital. One night. After that she’d be fine. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I swear.”

“Injuring your mother to have a party. Interesting. What’s your uncle’s address?” He reluctantly told me, and I got up to go outside. John tried to follow.

“No, stay here,” I said to him. “Do that, comfort thing you always do. I’ll take Lily.”

“She’s a child,” he protested.

“A legal adult, actually. Lily, would you like to go?” She waited a few seconds, and shook her head yes. “It’s settled then. Lestrade! Follow me!” We went outside, Lily and I in a cab, and Lestrade in a police car.

We reached the Uncle’s address. I told Lestrade to wait outside, and Lily and I walked to the front door. It was open. A trap.

“Stay behind me,” I said to Lily. I cautiously entered the house, analyzing everything in my sight, Lily close behind. She was visibly nervous. Never mind that. She has a beautiful mind, one that can’t be put to waste. She needs to get used to high pressure situations if she’s going to be solving crimes with me.

All of the sudden, I heard a bang from behind me, and Lily letting out a squeal. It was the uncle, he had grabbed her and pinned her against the wall, pointing a gun at her head. She was breathing heavily, eyes locked with her attacker. He turned his attention away from her, and pointed the gun at me. I held up my hands.

“Let her go,” I said. “She’s nothing to do with this.” I was extremely worried, but I couldn’t let that show. I wanted to beg, but I’ve never begged in my life.

“Why should I,” he spat. “I’m already found out.”

“Because if you do, you’ll just go to prison. If you don’t, you’ll wish you did. I know where every nerve ending in the human body is. After I’m through with you, you will too.”

While he was distracted by conversing with me, Lily kneed him in the gut. He let go of her and shot into the ceiling, and she ran out of the house. In that split second, I sprinted towards him and hit the gun out of his hand, and tackled him to the floor. Lestrade ran in frantically.

“What was that!” he screamed, more than asked. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No. Where’s Lily?”

“I heard the shot and saw her running out. She ran to the right side of the house.”

“Get this man in cuffs. I need to check on her.” Lestrade complied, and I exited the house.

I found Lily sitting along the side of the house, curled into a ball. Her hands were on her head, and she was rocking back and forth, shaking violently.

“Lily. Are you alright?” I wasn’t expecting a response.

She muttered a single sentence. “T-this...is why...I left home.” Her voice was shaky. She started to cry. Of course. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I slid along the wall and sat next to her. I wrapped my hands around her. She didn’t respond to my touch. She was still shaking, rocking back and forth, hands on her head. I did this to her. I was the one that took her along. John didn’t want me to. It’s my fault. Lestrade found us, shuffling the suspect in cuffs along with him.

“Don’t let her see him,” I barked. “He attacked her.” Lestrade listened, and carried the suspect off, using more force than he usually did. He called the paramedics, who assessed Lily, and we rode in Lestrade’s police car back home.

Back at the loft, I showed Lily to her room. I sat her down in bed, and pulled the covers over her. That spark of character that had always been in her eyes, since the moment I met her, was now gone. I closed the door, and headed back to my floor. John followed

“What the hell was that?” he said, in an angry tone.

“The suspect pinned her against the wall. I stopped him.”

“She’s terrified. Do you realize what this has done to her?”

“Of course I do.” My voice slightly cracked. “I wasn’t expecting… I didn’t know she has PTSD.”

John looked at me, deciding what emotion he should show. He decided on comfort.

“She’ll be okay. It’s just like me, when I have nightmares.”

“She’s broken John. That man broke her.”

“She’ll be okay. I promise.”

I let the weight of his words sink in. “Did you know she’s American?” I asked.

“What?”

“Her accent. She spoke to me.”

“Oh. What did she say?”

“‘This is why I left home.' After she was attacked.”

“Dear God,” he said. “That poor girl.”

“Yes. Indeed.”

We talked about it some more, until the conversation turned light. He headed upstairs, and I went into my bedroom. I stayed up a few hours, thinking, then fell asleep.


	7. The Apology

John’s POV

 

The next morning. I didn’t have a nightmare last night. I laid in my bed for an hour, until it was 9:00, probably late enough for Lily to be awake. I got up, made my bed, and walked over to her door. It was open. She was in the center of her bed, a braid in her hair, black glasses on, reading The Great Gatsby, like nothing had ever happened. She looked up at me.

“Good morning,” I said. “I was just checking in. Did you sleep well?” She smiled at me, and shook her head yes. I smiled back. I hesitated for a moment, then spoke again.

“Lily. Do you mind if I tell you something?” She scooted over to the top of her bed, and patted the bottom of it, inviting me to sit down, still smiling. I walked over, sat down on the bed, and crossed my legs. I was facing the wall on the other side of the room, staring into it.

“Sherlock told me what happened last night.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her smile fade a bit.

I continued.

“I know you’re trying to be strong, and you are strong, but I know what this kind of stuff does to you. Some weeks, when the nightmares are bad, I’m afraid to close my eyes. Just, the stuff I’ve seen…” I paused. I shook it off. “Anyways, we’re in the same boat here. I mean, we’re not, of course. I can’t imagine what you must have been through.” I meant it. “I chose my battles, and you were born into yours. But I’m here for you. Whatever you need, day or night, just knock on my door.”

She reached over and put her hand on mine. I looked at her, and we locked eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. I was stunned. I turned to face her, and gave her a hug. When the moment was over, I took in a big breath as to speak.

“So, you really are American?” I asked, in a lighthearted tone.

She laughed. “Yes.”

“Do you mind if I ask, why are you speaking? Why now?”

“Sherlock got to hear me speak, didn’t he?” She smiled. “Also, I know you’ll listen.”

“Of course,” I said. “Best not tell Sherlock about this. He’d get a bit jealous.” I smiled back. “One more thing. I know you haven’t gotten any sleep. You’re nearly finished with that book.” We both looked over to it, the place marker on nearly the last page. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay around me.” She nodded. “Take the day off. Get some sleep. Explore London. Just take it easy for today.”

“Okay,” she replied. “But only because you asked me to. I’m fine, really.”

“Alright, then,” I said. I didn’t want to pry any further. I patted the bed. “I’d better go check on Sherlock. I know that you know it wasn’t his fault, but he seems to think it was. Off I go.” She nodded her head in approval. I got up and left her room, leaving the door open.

I reached Sherlock’s floor, but there was no sign of him.

“Sherlock?” I called. There was no answer. He must have been out already. I saw how he was last night. I hope he hasn’t done anything reckless.

Despite being worried for Sherlock, I still had things to do. I texted Lily that I would be out most of the day, running errands, and exited the flat.

 

Sherlock’s POV

 

I didn’t get much sleep last night. At about four in the morning, I decided to go on a walk to clear my mind. After realizing that I had been walking for over six hours, I headed back to the flat.

I entered the flat. John had left a few hours before I arrived. I climbed the stairs and went into the living room, and sat down in my chair.

From upstairs, I could hear Lily playing music. She must have gone out and bought herself a new phone in John’s absence. The song had a gentle sound, with a soft voice singing the vocals. It was no Paganini, of course, but it made a soothing background noise while I thought. I caught a few lyrics, but they were very muffled. The melody was much clearer. However, after the song ended, it started over. After that, it repeated again.

Later that night, I was still in the living room, sitting in my chair. I got up and walked over to the window, staring out of it. I picked up my violin and started to play. Bach.

I heard Lily come down the stairs. She went into the kitchen and fixed a bowl of the pineapple that she had cut previously. She walked into the living room, and sat down in John’s chair, a book and the pineapple in her hands. She started reading, and I continued playing, my back turned to her.

This relationship lasted but ten minutes, until I had an idea.

I smoothly transitioned from Bach, and into the song that she was listening to. I could feel her attention on me. I slowly played, making sure to hit every note. When I finished, I turned toward her. She was staring at me, unsure of what to think.

“Beautiful song, that is,” I said. There was a moment of silence.

“Lily,” I started. “Now that you’re living in this flat, you’re under my protection. What happened yesterday was my mistake. I see potential in you, and I was curious to see how far I could push. Regardless, I should have taken your well being into consideration. I promise that it won’t happen again. I sincerely apologize.”

She flashed me a smile, I turned my back again and resumed playing. This time, Tchaikovsky. She gazed at me for a moment, and continued reading her book.

Hours later, John arrived, with an envelope in his hand. He had been to the bank, and he had dinner with a friend. He heard my violin and walked into the living room, and looked pleased that Lily was sitting with me.

“Did you guys have an eventful day?” he asked. I glanced over to Lily, noticing that she was almost finished with her book.

“It seems so,” I remarked.

“I’ll be upstairs if anyone needs me,” he replied, not expecting an answer. He headed to his bedroom.

“Might I suggest a different read?” I asked Lily. I walked over to my bookshelf. I grabbed a novel, and came to the chair that she was sitting in.

“It’s The Martyrdom of Man, my favorite.” I handed the book to her. She started reading the introduction. “It’s about the imprisonments of man, and the impact of intellect on one’s mind. Give it a read and tell me what you think.” She shook her head yes.

“Alright then.” I continued with my melody, and found my way back to the window.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this! I will try to update it every day.


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